


i’ll be your biggest fan (and you’ll be mine)

by corvidcries



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Domestic, First Meetings, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they are best friends your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidcries/pseuds/corvidcries
Summary: The whole thing felt like some sort of desperate fantasy he dreamed up in boring times, formed by gossamer and tulle and similarly transparent materials, because that’s what it was- too real to be intangible, too wishful to be reality. But here he was. Here George was. Here they were, together, sharing space.or, george comes to america and dream can’t express his feelings. domesticity ensues.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	i’ll be your biggest fan (and you’ll be mine)

**Author's Note:**

> i’m a little nervous as i’ve never written fanworks, (nor posted any of my writing before), but here we are. enjoy!

George laid in Dream’s bed, still fully dressed and resting on top of the covers, still very much incapacitated by jet lag. Dream opted to sit at his feet, nervously staring in slack-jawed wonder. His eyes fixed on George’s shirt. The t-shirt had long been frayed, the collar stretched by restless hands so that it slid casually down the length of his collarbone and settled on his shoulder. Dream felt inclined to reach out and gently return it to its previous resting position, to mother him. This was an urge he resisted, opting instead to simply gaze at his supine body. His eyes mapped out his form fervently, as though George would be gone in mere seconds and Dream would be left with only this compartmentalization of the figure in front of him. Intellectually, he knew that no such thing would occur. He knew that there were still days and hours and minutes in which every waking moment would revolve around George. And yet, it was not enough. The whole thing felt like some sort of desperate fantasy Dream dreamed up in boring times, formed by gossamer and tulle and similarly transparent materials, because that’s what it was- too real to be intangible, too wishful to be reality. But here he was. Here George was. Here they were, together, sharing space. 

After a joking invitation, a simple _Come to America_ , a hastily purchased plane ticket, a nine hour flight, one layover, and an hour of driving later, the two were together at Dream’s house. Everything has simply happened so fast, he could barely keep up. In that way, it was easy to believe George would soon cease to exist. It was easy to believe that he was an apparition, a mirage that would soon abandon him, because none of this felt real, for Christ’s sake. Nevertheless, Dream continued to scan him. Truly, he would’ve been better suited as a specter, what with his pale skin, near translucent. It took on an alabaster-like quality in the glow of the sulky rays of the rapidly setting sun. _It’s just George, you nerd, not a sculpture_ , Dream chastised himself. Face burning slightly, he resolved to look away all together, embarrassed by the thoughts collecting in his mind. 

“Hey,” George rasped. Dream startled, letting his vision snap back to him. George raised his eyebrows at him, a soft grin gracing his features. 

“What’s up?” Dream asked, sounding as casual as he could muster. 

“I- God, this is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m just. I’m glad I’m here. Y’know. With you,” George hedged, laughing awkwardly at the candidness of his statement. 

Dream’s heart hammered in his chest. He wondered if George could hear it, the harsh staccato bumping, as they locked eyes. All he saw behind them was sincerity, a fondness in the crinkling of his eyelids. Despite such an affirmation, he still felt unsure. George wasn’t one to lie, but- well, he didn’t know. Dream had always felt nervous when they talked like this, so honestly, not under the watchful gaze of their audience. In front of thousands of people, strangely, it was easier. It was easier to put on a charade and hide any pure intentions behind a more confident persona, an exaggerated version of himself. The aspect of being face-to-face, Dream had found, only amplified the discomfort he felt in this moment. 

But George wasn’t like that. Sure, there were bits that he played into, but for the most part he was achingly sincere. He never acted as anything less than what he was, and for that Dream envied him. Envied his ability to simply present himself to the world, face and all, something Dream had not worked up to. Irony played under the guise of content muddied Dream’s perception of life without the cameras; or, more specifically, Dream’s perception of his interactions with George. In response to such a statement, all Dream could think to say was,

“Really?” Dream wanted to hit himself for not maintaining the suave, devil-may-care attitude he put on and shed at will, hated himself for the voice crack that punctuated his speech. He tried again. “I mean, of course you do, how could anyone resis-”

“Stop,” George cut him off. Dream’s mouth fell shut in surprise of the uncharacteristic assertiveness he exhibited. George rose up from the bed and organized his legs into a sitting position, making unflinching eye contact. Dream was aware of how close they were now, how their knees almost touched. How their faces were mere inches apart. Despite his no-nonsense tone, his expression was all warmth. All bright brown eyes and lips upturned in an endearingly dorky smile that Dream couldn’t help but hesitantly return. 

“You don’t have to pretend. I know you, loser,” he said, not unkindly, “I know that accepting praise is hard for you, but I really want you to believe me when I say that there’s no other place I’d rather be. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Dream answered, and realized that he was telling the truth. Something about George’s tone reassured him this time, his words flooding around Dream. _There’s no other place I’d rather be_ , a sort of mantra echoing over and over in his mind. He let the validation wash over him, and then, haltingly, 

“I’m. Um, haha, this really is weird. I’m glad you’re here too?” It came out as a question. Not his intention at all, so he continued, “No, really. I am. It’s better than I could’ve ever imagined, having you here.” George raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“You imagined me here?” he joked. Dream’s expression turned inquisitive as he furrowed his brow. 

“No, that came out wrong,” he answered after a beat. “I thought of us,” he said simply, and left it at that. George’s face morphed into disbelief. 

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, bashfully staring off into the distance to avoid the intensity of Dream’s stare. 

“Yeah.” Dream replied. He felt color rise to his face again, embarrassed at how genuine he had been. He felt raw and exposed, as though someone had scrubbed a layer of skin off. And yet- he didn’t regret it. He wanted to let George know how much he cared, and because of this, allowed himself a reprieve. Allowed himself fulfillment, to scratch the itch he so dearly wanted to. Dream leaned forward, closing the distance between himself and George. George’s focus returned back to Dream at the sudden movement. George chuckled anxiously.

“What are you…” his words trailed off as Dream hitched his arm forwards, reaching, grasping for something. George watched in wonder as Dream’s fingers deftly wrapped around his collar and gently hiked it back up onto his shoulder. Dream smiled in soft pride at his handiwork. George goggled in shock. And then-

“You’re such an idiot,” George whispered fondly, face ablaze with a grin as he shoved Dream’s shoulder. Dream fell back slightly, wheezing madly. 

“You know you love me,” he said between giggles. George chuckled, completely endeared by his friend’s antics. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. Dream beamed at his statement. 

“Yeah?” Dream questioned, amused by his candor. 

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments i’m a sucker for feedback :o)


End file.
